Seaside Rendezvous
by enomix
Summary: Hermione and Draco are both taking the same sailing class in Hermione's town, taught by a ridicolousely hot instructor, who happens to be Hermione's friend. What could possibly go wrong? DM/HG. Post DH. For Princ3ss Tabz. Betad by RealmWeaver. Please R
1. Overture

**OVERTURE**

FANFICTION STORIES PRESENTS

A DRAMIONE PRODUCTION

"**SEASIDE RENDEZVOUS"**

STARRING

Draco Malfoy

Hermione Granger

Ben Whistleton

DEDICATED TO

SlytherinHead

Hidden Traces

tat1312

whispered touches

the infamous dollface

LoonyLovegoodLuvr

Potterfan.195

Jemennuie

Annabella Black

PrideIsArrogance

Sango's Counterpart

Clarivoyance

Shazadi

The Musical Fool

I LOVE COOKIE MONSTER

Lady Hailie

leggyfreak003

WishIWasJKR

And lastly…

to RealmWeaver, my wonderful beta

and Princ3ss Tabz, who asked for more

I hope you all enjoy this.

BETAD BY

RealmWeaver

WRITEN BY

enomix

See the poster!

?uo=

NO COPYRIGHT HARM INTENDED, THE TITLE BELONGS TO QUEEN AND THE CHARACTERS TO J.K. ROWLING.

Updates come soon! Please review if only to tell me what you think of my poster. :)

The first chapter will be coming soon, I promise.


	2. A Strange Rendezvous

**Disclaimer: I am not going to put up a disclaimer in any chapter. It's all in the overture.**

**This story is dedicated to all of my reviewers (for whole list see Overture), specially Princ3ss Tabz**

Hermione Granger woke up with a jump that morning, as her alarm clock went off excessively loudly. She looked at the damned thing, which was standing on her bedside table. 9:02. It was summer for Merlin's sake! Why on earth did she need to get up so early...?

She looked at her calendar, in hope for answers, and got them. In the 24th of July's box, _sailing starts!_ was clearly noted in her orderly handwriting. And that's when she realized that she needed to be at the bay by 10:30.

Quickly throwing the covers off her 17-year-old body, she ran to her wardrobe and pulled on a blue and white striped bikini, a pair of foamy green swimming shorts, and a random white shirt with a slogan on it. Then she sped to the bathroom, washed her face, gently brushed her hair until it was passably un-frizzy, and locked it into a high bun. Once that difficult task was overcome, she took out her make-up bag from the drawer under the sink, and gently outlined her eyes, and applied some light water-proof mascara. She _was_ going sailing after all.

She pulled the fridge open five minutes later, grabbing a piece of leftover chocolate cake from her parent's anniversary party, and sat down in the dining room to eat. It tasted delicious and she munched on the spongy delight with a dreamy expression on her face. That is, until she realized that there wasn't any more left on her plate. She drank a glass of warm milk and put the fork, knife, mug and plate into the dishwasher before dashing off to her room again.

On the way there, Hermione popped her head into her parents' room and saw that they were both sound asleep. Her father had a protective arm around Mrs. Granger, and Hermione smiled at the sight of the two looking so blissful. They must have had some night, what with the guests that weren't leaving and all. After this moment of empathy, she went back to her room and grabbed the backpack with all her sailing gear inside it (an extra bikini, some money, a towel, etc), and ran down the stairs. She took the keys from the door, left the house, and locked it behind her.

And what she saw almost made her have a heart attack. Who was that boy walking –no– parading down the road? _Her_ road? Surely it couldn't be...

_Malfoy?_

_

* * *

_

It was a peaceful morning. Light shone through the curtains, filtering it slightly so that he wasn't woken up abruptly. He could hear birds chirping outside, and smell the chocolate croissant that lay on a tray by his bed, along with a mug of warm milk, and a plate with butter and a small jar of strawberry jam.

_God bless room service_, thought Draco Malfoy. He slowly sat up in bed, put the tray on the bed sheets and started to eat. _They may be muggles, but this hotel is much better than the Leaky Cauldron. Too bad I can't use magic to duplicate the croissant. It's so damn good. Who would've thought the muggles could cook this well?_

After breakfast, he slowly got up from his bed, leaving the empty tray behind, and opened his trunk. He pulled out a green t-shirt with _Slytherins Rule_ written on it in silver, and a pair of black and green Billabong swimming shorts that he'd bought the day before on his visit to a muggle mall. He would never admit it to Crabbe, Goyle, or anyone for that matter, but he absolutely loved them.

Once he was dressed, the Slytherin made his way to the hotel room's bathroom, and washed his face with ice-cold water. He took a brush that was lying by the sink and just messed up his platinum hair into a casual hairdo that he was sure would melt at least ten hearts today. Muggle girls were so easy to allure.

He quickly went into the other room in the suite, where his mother was sleeping, and silently kissed her on the cheek. Narcissa Malfoy opened her eyes and bid farewell to her son as he left the room.

* * *

"MALFOY?" cried Hermione.

"GRANGER?" he replied, bewildered.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" the both asked together.

"Um, I _live_ here, ferret."

He fumed. "Don't-ever-call-me-that-again!"

"Whatever, mouthboy. Now would you care to expalin what _you_ are doing here, in a muggle town, wearing a couple of—" Hermione almost fainted, "**—**Billabong shorts?"

Her archenemy looked really embarrassed by her last remark.

"My mother had a friend who lives here. An old family friend. And she invited us over for the summer."

Hermione looked as though she'd been told that they weren't going to have N.E.W.T.s anymore. "What? You came here… to _visit_?" she asked, open mouthed.

"Yes, Granger. Does that amuse you?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Er, yes actually. It does. And how do you explain the shorts?" The bookworm was still at lost. What on earth could make a muggle-hating Slytherin wear a pair of shorts that were manufactured by muggles?

"Right, about that. You see, since I had to stay here, I have to wear muggle clothes. And I'm doing sailing this month because my mother's friend said that otherwise I would be bored, and that it was either that or surf. And no way am I balancing myself on some board on the water. That's just suicide. So I bought these. Mrs. Tie said that they were the type of thing for sailing."

Hermione just stared at him, as if she had been teleported to the world of Fahrenheit 451.

"Granger, are you ok?"

She couldn't talk. She couldn't reply. She was just paralyzed… stiller than anyone the basilisk had petrified, quieter than Sir Nicholas on the days Ron talked about his death…

"A-A-er-are y-you g-going to ta-ake the vaurien course?"

"Yes… Why should this be so shocking to you? I know that I'd never do muggle sports unless I had another option… but what is so strange?"

"I'm doing that course too."

* * *

**Okay, that was kind of short, but I promise longer chapters in the future.**

**Review please? Tell me what you think, I love hearing it. :D**

**:)**


	3. This must be a mistake

**It's been so long! I am dreadfully sorry for the wait. I've been really busy and then lost all my inspiration for this, and then my grandma had a heart attack (she's okay now), and ugh. This is a bit short, but I promise regular (max. 2 week wait) from now on. Love you all! ~enomix**

**CHAPTER 2: This must be a mistake**

Malfoy looked as though he'd been hit on the head with an edition of all of Lockhart's books in one.

"You can't be serious?" he groaned. "You better get off that list, mudblood."

The girl fumed. "EXCUSE ME? Now _I'm_ the one that has to quit, just so mister King-of-the-World can't deal with having a bookworm and fantastic sailor in his vaurien class? I don't give a shit if you're here or not, I'm going to sail. If you're unhappy, ferret, then leave yourself."

_I can't give her the satisfaction,_ the Slytherin thought to himself._ No way, man. You're Draco Malfoy, better than everyone else here. Right then, the mudblood will see how much pleasure there is in having him in her class. It'll be just like potions with Snape._

But as it turned out, it was as unlike potions with Snape as he would have thought possible.

For a start, Granger was _friends_ with the instructor, of all things.

He was chestnut-haired and brown-eyed, and Draco hated him from the start. But the mudblood had been extremely happy to see her old friend.

"Austen!"

"Dell!" Whatever the hell _that_ was Draco wasn't so sure.

"How have you been?" "I missed you so much!" "Me too." "Did you have fun during the schoolyear?" "Yeah. But I missed you." "I'm looking forward to this month so much." "It's going to be great to sail like old times again!"

He felt like vomiting.

Hermione, on the other hand, was rather pleased. They had been friends since preschool, and curiously, both ended up sailing each summer until they were experts in the subject. Hermione's uncle's friend ran the navigation school, and so she was on the list for an instructor next year, but in the muggle world, being 17 wasn't enough.

She looked around at the other four people that had signed up for the course. All of them where around 16 years old. Oh, and Malfoy too, of course, with a frown on his face, looking as out of place as usual.

"All right everyone! My name is Ben, and I will be your sailing instructor this month. I hope that I will be able to he–"

"Why does _she_ call you _Dell_?" sneered Malfoy. Hermione blushed crimson, and looked at the floor, while a blonde-haired participant wearing extremely too much makeup giggled.

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Well, er, Draco, Hermione and I have known each other for quite some time, and it is my interest in computers and the Internet what made her nickname me so. After the hardware company, you know."

Draco looked like someone had just told him that Crumple Horned Snorcksacks were taking over the world. In other words, utterly flabbergasted.

"And," continued the awfully attractive (and to Draco, tremendously bothersome) Ben, "seeing as you and Hermione go to school together, I guess you know why I call her 'Austen'. "

The Slytherin still looked clueless, but disguised the fact by tossing yet another lock of his hair out of his pale face.

Were muggles _always_ this irritating?

Hermione had a blast. The weather had been perfect for sailing, and she, being an expert thanks to the wonderful coaching she'd had in France, had had a wonderful time. It was also a plus that Ben was the instructor. He was only a year older than her, and they actually had the same sailing skills, but although the girl was an adult according to wizard law, 17 just wasn't enough in the muggle world.

It hadn't been a good day just because she'd sailed a lot and seen her old friend. Well, partly the latter, but not in the sense of "Oh, how good to see you!î Quite frankly, Hermione had been absolutely dazzled at the sight of the hunk her childhood friend had grown into. It helped of course, that he was constantly giving her his attention, which earned the adolescent some envious looks from the other two girls that had signed up, Amelia and Sarah, but all in all, Hermione had felt a sense of pride for having such a good-looking friend.

And maybe something else too?

Draco had a miserable day. He couldn't believe that freak of a mudblood had had to live here of all places. Here, where he was going to spend his summer!

Ben had shamelessly flirted with the Gryffindor, and Draco wasn't one bit happy about it. Not because he felt something for her, Merlin forbid, but because he wasn't anyone in this dreary ancient village of theirs.

His fabulous platinum locks had melted the hearts of quite a few muggle girls, but not one of them had come up to him and started a conversation. All they did was nudge their friends and start giggling. _Immature filth_, he thought.

Narcissa had sent him a sympathizing look over lunch, and tried to get him to say what was wrong with him, but Draco hadn't said a word. He was too angered about the matter to start spilling out his fury on his mother.

She had always been there for him. When he had first fallen off his broom, it had been she who had taken care of him. When he had come home crying from the Nursery at Diagon Alley because a bully had taken away his Cleansweep 260 model away from him, she had comforted him and bought him a new one. It had always been her.

Lucius Malfoy had never bothered with his son. Sure, he put the money for his robes, his education and his fancies. But not once had he shown some interest in the sentimental wellbeing of his son. _You must be a proud Malfoy, you must not associate with mudbloods, you must beat everyone, you must be the best_. It had almost been a brainwashing to him.

In the evening, he had finally confessed.

And his mother's reaction was not what he would have expected.


	4. Besmirching is a sin

**Chapter 3: **_**Besmirching is a sin**_

_His eyes burned with fury._

"_You have disgraced our family! Besmirched our name! You are an absolute shame to the pureblood race! Contumelious—wretched—such insolence—Tinker! Mathilde!"_

_Two terrified house-elves appeared with a barely audible crack; as if magic itself couldn't dare to disrupt the silence created by the mighty Cygnus Black._

"_Yes, master?" the two chorused, their voices hushed and fearful._

_Cygnus slapped his daughter, and then turned away from her, trembling with ire._

"_Get her out of my sight. NOW!" he bellowed, and the house elves, shaking with terror, grabbed the youngest of the Black sisters and disappeared with yet another subdued crack._

"_She doesn't know what she's doing, Cygnus. She's in that age of great changes; we have to guide her, show her how she's sinned," consoled Druella Black, emerging from the shadows cast by a navy curtain that separated the candle-lit room from the harsh, bitterly cold forest outside the window._

"_Be quiet Druella! She may well be sixteen now, but in two days time she'll be of age and once she finishes school she'll marry Malfoy. What then? She is a disgrace to our name; she has stained our honour with her shameless acts of ignorance. This propensity to perform in such a brazen manner has to stop!"_

_Cygnus' fists shook with the pique he felt. His wife walked across the dimly lit room, through the labyrinth of leather settees and low coffee tables to where he was standing. Druella softly caressed his cheek and kissed his ear._

"_Everything will be all right, darling… everything will be all right."_

_

* * *

_

"_Everything will be all right, darling… everything will be all right," solaced Andromeda, gently stroking her younger sisters tow-coloured curls._

"_Pfft!" cheeked Bellatrix, "I don't know why you even talk to her, Andromeda. She's no more than filth! We've always told her to keep away from those gold-digging halfwits. But no, Little Miss Smarty-Pants Cissy has to go and fall in love with one of those oafs!"_

"_Hold your tongue, Bella," scolded Andromeda over the sobs of her sister, "if you don't have anything nice to say, then clear out!"_

_The eldest stuck out her tongue at Andromeda._

"_You really are a lummox, consoling Cissy like that. If you don't take care, you'll be the next one to elope with some muggle. Hah! I'm the only pure one here… I have never felt the teeniest bit of attraction to anyone below my place. You two will learn one day, but I will not be the one to teach you. I'm going to Ellabeth's. At least I'll have someone decent to talk to."_

_And with that, Bellatrix disappeared with a crack._

_

* * *

_

"_What you've done, Narcissa, is appalling. Not only have you created a bond with a muggle, but you have also dared to love him as if he were worthy of you. This is scandalous behaviour, and your father and I will not stand for it!"_

_Narcissa sobbed into her pillow._

"_But now, my daughter. I know that the past is gone and cannot be changed. Instead, together, we shall have to forge a prosperous future for you. It will not be easy, because there are many ideals that one cannot force upon such delicate minds, but I promise you that you will get what you deserve. Glass of water?"_

_The young witch raised her head from the pillow and nodded at her mother, who was shocked by the state of her daughter's face._

_Narcissa's normally gleaming eyes were a matte white, without a spark of hope in them. Her pearly orbs were surrounded by waves of scarlet marks, which showed the forlorn pain her heart was decaying with. _

"_Here you go, darling," smiled Druella, offering the young Black a golden goblet encrusted with the Black family crest. " Now, listen to me."_

"_Yes, mother?" piped up Narcissa, gulping down the water in one sip and placing the goblet alongside a tattered copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ on the small wooden table that resided beside her bed._

"_You must forget about that Maxwell Coppervalley as soon as possible, and try your best to obey both your father and I. It is of utmost importance that you regain your father's confidence. Remember, my sweet, that soon you will be wedding the grand Lucius Malfoy."_

_At this statement, Narcissa started to cry yet again, but her mother consoled her, embracing the slim body that was once only a teensy child._

"_He will be a very good husband, my angel. He is respectable, smart, and rich. No doubt that you will have one or two children, and they will be as charming as the two of you. You will be very happy with him."_

"_But I don't love him!" Narcissa sobbed, "It isn't fair. I shouldn't have to marry a man I shall never love."_

_Druella chuckled._

"_Love does not bring happiness, my treasure. Love is but passion, and passion only brings pain. And while you may feel invincible when your beloved is by your side, when he is not you will feel your frail heart shatter into a million pieces that only his return shall be able to splice together again."_

_Narcissa looked up at the melancholy expression on her mother's face._

"_Do you love father?"_

_Druella looked away. _

"_No."_

"_Have you ever loved a man?"_

_Cygnus' wife stood up, and walked over to the window, and pulled back the scarlet drapes that kept her from admiring the dell that had been bathed in white by the falling of snowflakes_

"_Yes, I have."_

_

* * *

_

Hope you enjoyed that, Dramione will be back, don't worry! :) And we will see more of Narcissa's flashbacks too. Please review!


	5. Blood is thicker than water

**Seaside Rendezvous  
Chapter 4: Blood is thicker than water**

"Listen, Draco, I think you should try to be friends with that Granger girl."

The blond Malfoy boy fell off his chair.

"WHAT? Have you gone completely mad? I'd rather die than be friends with that filthy little mudblood!" He trembled violently with rage and surprise, eyes irate and steaming; Narcissa was reminded suddenly of her father.

"Listen to me, Draco—"

"Mother, I do not know what has come over you, but muggles are filth. They are not worthy of the companionship of a wizard, least of all that know-all Granger brat!"

His mother looked repulsed. "I never want to hear you speak like that again, all right? They are _not_ filth. I don't care how many times you have heard that phrase, how many times you have been told that they are not the same as us, because inside we are all human."

"No, mother. The blood that flows in my veins is magical, as will the blood flowing in my sons and their sons and their sons. It is not normal for a simple muggle with no magical ancestors to suddenly be a wizard. They must be put in their rightful place, they do not belong with us!" he cried, his capricious temper building up.

"When I was young," started Narcissa, "I fell hopelessly in love with a man named Matthew Coppervalley. He was a muggle."

Draco looked at his mother with puzzled eyes, absolutely bewildered.

"Mother, you cannot be serious. You, in love with someone—someone like _that_?" he snarled.

The woman looked at him with matte eyes.

"Yes, son, I fell in love with someone like that. And he showed me so many things that we, of the "powerful and noble" blood would never have thought about. Muggles are said to be dull-witted and ignorant, but really they are very advanced in fields that we haven't even discovered. They have to live without any magical aid, without charms to heal wounds, without brooms, the Floo Network and apparation to transport them. And they have a thriving world!"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Thriving? _That_ is what you call thriving? Mother, they don't even know of our _existence_, how is that even the lowest level of intelligent?"

But Narcissa shook her head at her son's stubbornness.

"My son, they have built machines that travel on grey roads, they look like metal monsters with their sounds and lights. They have built giant birds of steel that travel faster than any Nimbus to date—ten, twenty, thirty times faster! They have made a connection with poles and wires and I don't know what transmissions that send off invisible signals from one place to another so that two people in different places can talk! What they have done is may not be magical, but that doesn't mean it's less worthy of admiration."

Her son sighed.

"I know that they have done things that are impressive, but they don't have _magic_. And that is the difference between us, mother. We are more powerful than they are. We are more potent, more astute and more skilled than they are, and not even ten centuries would be enough to get one to understand how things work for the other."

"You are right in what you say, Draco, but not in what you think. Ten centuries wouldn't be enough to get _us_ to understand _their_ world. They are far too developed and fast in their developments; we would never catch up."

* * *

The Malfoy heir walked through the streets, mind still reflecting on the words of his mother. It wasn't normal for her to say that! He had the feeling that she had read far too many muggle books lately. Or perhaps it was that foolish infatuation that his mother had confessed to him—but no, it couldn't be! Narcissa Malfoy in love with a muggle—someone that wasn't even falsely magic, not even a mudblood?

Suddenly papers flew in the air, and Draco realized that he had bumped into someone—or rather, that someone had bumped into him.

He sighed and unwillingly started to pick up ivory folios that had plummeted onto the grey stony sidewalk. Uninterested, but encouraged by his want to know everything, the boy looked at the heading of what he presumed to be the first page: _**Sunny nights and dark mornings**_. What kind of title was that? Not that he cared, anyway—or at least, that's what he told himself.

Draco stood up, and after neatly putting the sheets together, looked up at the person whom he had collided into—or the person who had collided into him, of course.

Without warning, the pages that had been so sprucely collected were flung down, their shadows bathing the sidewalk in black before they hit the ground. The Malfoy turned his back on the flabbergasted girl and strut away, seething; his footprints left to decay on the once white papers he had stepped on.

* * *

"I can't believe he's here, mother! It's just so unfair—like he's followed me to try and spoil everything. It's just so uncalled for and rude. As if it wasn't enough that he had to torment me for seven years—no, that's not enough for the grand Draco Malfoy! He just _has_ to come ruin the rest of my life as well!"

Hermoine Granger was sobbing as she drank a mug of hot chocolate in the kitchen. Her mother was by the stove preparing some spaghetti carbonara for dinner, which was one of the young witch's favourite dishes.

"Honey, he may just be here on vacation, and it's not like he wants to be around you anyway, from what you've told me," consoled Mrs. Granger. Unfortunately, her words did not have much effect on the young 17-year-old.

"But he's in the same bloody sailing course! I have to see him every day for three weeks!"

"Not on weekends, darling. And besides, you're almost an adult, it doesn't matter what some boy says to you! Draco Malfoy, what's-her-name Parkinson, to be honest, I don't even care if he's the long-lost son of the Queen!"

Mrs. Granger added some salt to the pasta, and turned the heat down a bit. "Thing is, Hermione, that you have to stand up for yourself. Who cares what some idiotic mouth has to say? He has nothing that is more important, nothing that is more powerful. The fact that his family is respected and rich in the wizarding world doesn't matter out here. You know people. You have friends. Draco Malfoy is nowhere in the picture, honey! Forget about his idiocies, my dear. It's not worth the trouble."

Hermione nodded, and put the empty mug in the sink.

"Now go call your father, dinner's ready."


	6. Incertitude

**Seaside Rendezvous  
Chapter 5: Incertitude**

Draco woke up with a headache that morning. He was cantankerous, exhausted, and chagrined. The day before had been awful for him—first meeting Granger, of all people, in the sailing course; then having to listen to his mother go on and on about how muggles weren't that different from wizards. He'd been tossing and turning all night on account of the matters that had elicited a wakeful night.

He grumbled his way to the small kitchenette in the suite of the Piazza Hotel. His mother was already there, preparing some toast. The table was set and the flagons steaming. A smell of freshly baked bread filled the small room, reaching the youth's nose with an ambrosial aroma.

"I don't recall having visited the bakery yesterday," the Malfoy commented, taking a seat at the head of the table.

Narcissa put the final of the toast in a basket, and sat down in front of her son.

"I went this morning. I also bought the newspaper and a very interesting book."

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"This morning? But it's only nine thirty!"

His mother nodded. "I know, son. But I had a very pleasant sleep last night and wanted to get some fresh air. I saw you were sleeping peacefully, so I left for a few minutes. And talking about the time—it's very late for you! Sailing starts at ten, and you still have to reach the beach," Narcissa gazed worriedly at her son biting her lip, "I could ask Jane to lend you one of her bicycles."

Draco shook his head, and answered between his rushed chews, "Don't worry mother—I'm sure I'll get there in time."

But after the boy had taken fifteen minutes to finish breakfast, another five to style his hair, and another five to prepare the things he needed for the course, it was very late.

"I'll take you to the bay in the car, all right?"

The boy looked astonished at his mother. "Do you know how _ridiculous_ that will look? Really, who has their mothers drive them to an activity when they're seventeen?"

"You forget we are in the muggle world, Draco. You are not of age, and cannot drive. On the other hand, you are late, and the only way to get to sailing on time is if I take you. So no excuses. You're coming with me."

* * *

"Looks like your friend's late," smirked Ben.

Hermione frowned. "He is _not_ my friend, Dell. I _hate_ him."

He laughed. "I was just kidding, Austen. Will you forgive me? I don't even know why I ask, I know you will!" he said, giving her a playful tap on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Dell," the witch replied, simpering "If you weren't so vain you'd notice you are not the only man around here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Forgive me for being so egomaniacal." Ben said, taking a step towards the girl so that their noses were inches apart. "Perhaps we should seal our reconciliation with a—"

"If you two are done flirting, perhaps we should start the course. I'm just saying. I didn't come here to see you guys lock lips."

Ben closed his fists, and turned his back on a slightly disenchanted Hermione.

"We were just having a friendly conversation, and I don't see how it is any of your business anyhow," he declared to a smug Draco.

"Friendly conversation, my foot! If I'd come a second later you'd be snogging madly. Anyway, can we start now?"

The instructor looked furious, but tried to calm his nerves. Who did this guy think he was? Hermione was right in thinking he was an idiot.

Nevertheless, Ben forgot about the impertinent Draco for a minute and turned his attention to the other participants, who were watching the scene amusedly.

"Welcome, everyone. Today we shall start with some theory—" This comment earned a snort from one Timothy, the only boy that had signed up apart from Draco.

Ben raised an eyebrow. First Draco, now Timothy, why was everyone punishing him with pointless and irritating remarks?

"I'm not sure if you've noticed," started the instructor, "but there is lots of wind today. Unless you would like to capsize and go home soaked, I suggest that you listen to what I have to explain. Now, everyone, let's go inside the hut to where there's a whiteboard."

* * *

Amelia, Sarah and Hermione were changing in the girls' dressing room. It had been a fun morning for all three, although there had been some ups-and-downs between Draco and Ben. The two had been constantly attacking each other with insults and although Draco had credited his crash into Ben's boat as "an effect of my inexperience in sailing", they were all quite sure that it had been on purpose. And the fact that Ben had returned soaked due to capsizing on Draco's account had not greatly improved the relationship between them. Although it had been a very entertaining for the rest of them.

"Are you friends with Draco, Hermione?" asked the redheaded Amelia, combing her hair into a high bun.

"_Friends_? He's the most arrogant _dunce_ that ever walked on this earth!" replied the witch.

Sarah smirked. "Well, he seems very unhappy with the way you and Ben were flirting this morning."

The brunette frowned. "We were not flirting, just—having a friendly conversation is all."

The other two burst into laughter.

"C'mon, Hermoine, you _know_ you like him. It's kind of obvious, actually," said Amelia.

"And it's not as if it he disguises _his_ feelings either, the way he looks at you and defends you whenever Draco starts being rude—"

"—and you are both soperfect for each other; you can both sail, you're both smart—"

"—I'm actually surprised that you're not together already!"

The way Sarah and Amelia were interrupting each other faintly remembered the witch of the Weasley twins. Hermione couldn't do anything but confess with a smile. "Okay, maybe a _little_… but we've been friends for almost all our lives!"

"And that's enough time, don't you think? Oh, really, I'm sure you two would be very happy together," replied the redhead, trying to close her bulging backpack.

"It's just—I don't know."

But the thing was, Hermione did know. She knew why she was never going to have the courage to kiss Ben.

The same thing had happened with Ron. She'd been in love with him for so many years, so many summers had been spent writing amorous poems in a notebook that was hidden somewhere in the attic. And at the battle—that kiss… all those years of strong feelings had fused into a few seconds of glory. But what had happened afterwards?

They hadn't seen each other for months, he hadn't replied to her letters. She'd written to Harry and Ginny asking why on earth Ron wasn't replying, but they had said it was Ron's explanation to make, not theirs.

Finally, Hermione had ended believing the worst. Most likely the Weasleys had finally been rewarded for their resistance in the war and had a new house, a clean name. No doubt Ron had plenty of admirers following him about. If Gilderoy Lockhart could captivate thousands of hearts with his false smile and spurious experiences, then the sincere and funny Ron would be a poster in rooms of many young witches. And who would choose bookworm Hermione over any glossy haired and irresistible cutie?

Besides, it wasn't as if he'd even cared to _tell_ her that he didn't want to have anything to do with her. So—that was that.

But Hermione didn't want the same thing to happen with Ben—she didn't think she could bear losing another friend on account of a teenage infatuation.

"Let's get back to Draco," said Amelia, "Listen, I wasn't sure if you two had some kind of rival-love or something going on, that's why I asked you. But would you mind if I asked him out? He's really cute."

Hermione stopped the urge to empty her stomach then and there. "He's all yours," she managed to say.

"Thanks, Hermione!"

"And another thing," started Sarah, "Think over what we talked about, and go out with Ben. No, no; don't protest, girl. You _know_ you want to."

The witch couldn't to anything but sigh, and walk out of the dressing room door, with Amelia and Sarah behind her.

"Hey, Hermione—HERMIONE!"

The girl stopped and turned around, finding herself face-to-face with Ben.

"Listen," he said, "I was wondering… are you, uh, doing anything tonight?"

Hermione could see Amelia and Sarah shaking their heads frantically and mouthing something behind Ben.

"Er… no?"

"So, uh, would you like to go, uh, to the, er, cinema with me? We can watch, er, that new movie called _The Black Cat's Ninth Life_."

The two girls behind Ben started to nod so hard it looked as though their heads were going to fall off, and Hermione couldn't do anything but agree.

"Sure. But my mother won't be able to take me to the cinema in the car; I'm afraid it's broken down."

"That's fine," Ben replied, "I'll pick you up around eight. That all right?"

"Perfect."

Behind him, Amelia and Sarah giggled furiously.


End file.
